The Seven Sort-Of Sins of the Founders Four
by emshi21
Summary: Seven One-shots, vaguely chronological, depicting the lives of the Founders in relation to them committing the seven 'deadly' sins, but are they so sinful?
1. Pride

This is just going to be a set of, surprise, surprise, seven one-shots, probably chronological, depicting the Founder's era and the seven sort-of sins the founders commit. And yes, I am a Ravenclaw. I will try to be impartial….

**Pride**

Godric settled himself down in the chair closest to the fire in the staffroom, stretching his arms behind his head and yawning. It had been a long day, unfortunately there had been a minor scrap between some students, over some long running family dispute about the ownership of some fields, but Helga was with them now, and he was sure that the younger boy's nose could be reattached quite simply. He gazed out of the window over to the lake and the forbidden forest, watching the students mingle in the dying summer light.

Hogwarts. His creation. Well, not only his of course. But it had been he who had thought of it. He had been downing something slightly more alcoholic than it perhaps should have been at an hour slightly later than it should have been and it had struck him. A school. It was a strange idea: most muggle children were uneducated, and even the rich were educated at home. A school, a university for children, was practically unheard of, at least in 11th century Scotland. But once he had thought of it, he couldn't get it out of his head. It was perfect, a school, a place of education for magical children to learn the necessary skills to survive and keep magic accomplished and strong.

The door was pushed open, and Rowena backed into the room, keeping the door open with her back whilst grappling with a pile of parchment, which she promptly deposited on the wooden table with a satisfying thump. Essays no doubt. He smiled at her in greeting, receiving one in return, tired but happy. It had been Rowena who had developed his idea from its bare bones into something functional. She, with her unsurpassable intelligence, had devised the perfect curriculum, from all walks of magical life, and had created the lesson plans for virtually all lessons they had taught, from first year Charms to seventh year Transfiguration. She had rejected Godric's idea of a Duelling curriculum, instead convincing him to run it as an optional club. Considering the number of problems duels already caused in Hogwarts, in retrospect he considered this very wise.

She looked tired, he thought, and vowed to take on more marking in the future. Beautiful though she was, fatigue was evident under her eyes. Godric smiled at his last thought, many men in his position would have approached Rowena with a marriage proposal: she was beautiful, intelligent and long since widowed. To him however, she was still Rowena, his childhood friend and surrogate little sister, and instead he contented himself by making her hair dance with his wand. A quick hex to his wand arm from over her shoulder stopped this, it being most difficult to cast spells when one's arm is momentarily turned to stone. Damn she was quick.

The door opened once more and Helga bounced in. Not that this was uncommon, Helga bounced everywhere. With her copper ringlets, rosy complexion and, _ample_, endowments, she was the complete opposite of elfin, pale and dark haired Rowena, and in temperaments they differed still. Yet in spite of this they were closer than perhaps even he and Salazar, shown by how the two women began talking in half sentences, not needing to qualify anything the other said.

Perhaps it was these differences that made Godric look at Helga in an entirely way to Rowena.

She of course had been instrumental in devising the school's pastoral system. Rowena, though by no means heartless, was not a natural in the art of giving comfort or affection. Helga put in place prefects and tutors, hired the house elves, created multiple recipes for them to follow and with her undeniable skill as a mediwitch had designed the system for the Hospital Wing, and ruled over it with more care and efficiency than either he or Rowena could ever have managed.

She began reporting the health of the now re-nosed third year, and discussing with Rowena the suitable punishments to give out. This prompted a low chuckle from Salazar in the corner. He had presumably been there all along, but typically, he was not noticed until he needed to be.

Whilst he then engaged in an animated discussion with the two women about the exact distinction between impressive and slightly impish duelling and flat out violence, Godric's mind turned to Salazar's creation. The houses.

It was, in many ways, a good idea. Four houses, headed by each of them, allowing them to cultivate the talents of students most like themselves, and to help them make like-minded friends. Salazar was also in the belief that competition between the houses, in the form of House Cup and house points, was also necessary to develop ambition and cunning.

At times like this, however, when Gryffindors and Slytherins fought bitterly against one another, he wondered if it was worth it.

Still, despite its faults, as he watched his three best friends bicker amicably, Rowena and Salazar hurling witty retort one after the other at each other and Helga laughing along, he couldn't help but be proud of their creation.

He knew Pride was a sin to muggles. But he didn't necessarily think that it was wrong.


	2. Gluttony

Gluttony

Helga groaned as she attempted to sit up again. Perhaps she had gone too far this time. The platters of food now lay empty, seeing as she had polished off the multitude of cakes the elves had brought her for tasting.

Well, she couldn't let them give them to the students without knowing what they were like, could she?

Summoning the elves from the kitchen, she smiled sheepishly at their disapproving look, simply asking for a plate of biscuits, and a drink, to finish it all off.

Admittedly, she thought, consoling herself, it hadn't all been her. Both Godric and Salazar had managed to eat a fair few and even Rowena had eaten a couple, although in her typical fashion she hadn't stopped long. These days, sighed Helga, Rowena was far too busy to sit in her friend's chambers and eat, what with essays to mark, and a daughter who was growing increasingly troublesome as she aged.

Munching on a biscuit to ease the pain of her overeating, Helga pondered the state of her own life. Unlike Rowena, she had no troublesome children, and unlike Salazar and Godric, her House was well behaved and hardworking, so caused her limited trouble.

Really, the only problem at present was the issue of how she was going to get rid of the sharp pain of indigestion and the nausea that was beginning to build.

That's not to say that life was easy for Helga. She worried a lot, and recently, watching the way that Salazar had begun to view certain students, and his occasional remarks about researching their blood purity, she began to fear that all would not be well for much longer.

Rowena had noticed this too, but her friend was not concerned. In her mind, if Salazar decided to take issue with muggle-born students, then they could simply join one of the other three houses and be done with it.

Godric was the same, although Helga hadn't actually spoke to him directly about it, as often the two struggled to stay talking about serious matters. She knew from what Rowena said that he disliked Salazar's new prejudice but wasn't going to make too much of a fuss about it.

All in all, she thought, whilst swigging from a bottle of Butterbeer, it looked like she was going to be holding a lot more tasting sessions in the future. Sighing, she finally managed the ascent from her chair, and groaned as she did so.

She knew that this was Gluttony. But, with things being how they were, she also didn't care.


	3. Lust

**Lust**

Salazar lazily gazed across the grounds of Hogwarts from the staffroom, observing small moments between the students. He watched a group of fifth year Gryffindors fall about laughing at something one of the boys had said. A group of Ravenclaws were chatting close by, less loudly and rambunctiously. He saw a couple of Slytherin boys, some sixth years he believed, tormenting a Hufflepuff boy. He smirked. He should probably stop it, but the boy was muggleborn, and in his mind, the fact that he couldn't defend himself was just proof that he did not belong.

None of them belonged in his mind.

His attention was caught by a young couple, a Slytherin boy with a younger Ravenclaw girl underneath a tree nearby. He watched as a comment from the girl, complete with a raised eyebrow, prompted a snort from her companion.

He was reminded, in short, of his own relationship with Rowena. One of mutual abuse that neither really meant, and a tendency to sit back and mock their other two best friends.

They were a force to be reckoned with when combined.

That was something Salazar was really beginning to notice.

He would be a fool to deny that he found her incredibly attractive. Not just physically, although that was certainly true. Many better men had fallen under the spell of Rowena Ravenclaw's dark eyes, her long flowing hair, and her slim yet still curved figure.

However, there were other aspects of her that were attractive to him. Her wit, her endless sarcasm, but above all, her detachment.

He knew that Rowena would understand that he did not want to have any form of clingy, joined-at-the-hip relationship.

Because he didn't. Right?

In his head, there was more to his musings than lust. Not love, but more, _calculation_.

He knew that he needed an heir. To complete his control over this school, he needed a way of carrying on his legacy. He needed a child who could pass on the skill of Parsletoungue, who could continue his work on his Chamber, which he was so close to finishing that he had begun his search for a Basilisk.

Who better to fulfil this ambition than Rowena? She was already a mother after all, and a very good one at that. He saw the love in her beautiful eyes when she looked at her child, now nearly fifteen.

And if Rowena could still love Helena that much, after everything that the girl was putting her through, he was sure she could love a child even if they began his dream of removing muggles from the school.

Right?

He was sure that what he felt was mostly lust towards her.

Because anything more would be too farfetched for the unfeeling Salazar. Wouldn't it?


	4. Wrath

**Wrath**

Rowena stormed through the halls with such ferocity that students were being forced to throw themselves against the wall to avoid her speeding form. The look of shock on their faces as they did so proved to each other that no one had ever seen the Head of House so angry before. In fact, normally, her emotions were kept so far under the skin that students not in Ravenclaw often believed her to be completely emotionless.

Rowena didn't care. At this point, all she wanted was to get her hands around the throat of Salazar Slytherin.

Slamming open another door, making another group of students jump out of their skins, she screamed, internally of course, as Salazar eluded her once more.

He was unbelievable.

Half an hour previously, she would have defended him to the hilt, and frequently had to, against Helga and Godric, and said that his muggle-born hatred was just a phase, nothing to worry about, he rarely showed it in front of students, so what did it matter?

That was before she'd been visited in her office by two trembling first years, a boy of the name Boot and a girl of the name Corner. Both muggle born students in her house, who were undoubtedly also some of the brightest in their year. She hoped Corner would continue with her transfiguration studies, and she knew that Helga was convinced that Boot was a Healer in the making. They were also two well behaved students, there had been the odd instance of misbehaviour but nothing to rival the antics of the Slytherins and Gryffindors particularly.

Yet here they were, telling her that they had been advised it would be in their best instance to return to muggle life.

After much probing, she finally managed to squeeze out the name of the person who told them this, and just about managed to stay calm until she had sent them off to the kitchens with an obliging elf, for some well needed refreshment.

And now, she was on a hunt. A hunt for Salazar Slytherin, whose prejudice had finally got the better of him and caused him to collar two of her best first year students.

Walking straight past a duel between two third years, house unknown due to the excess of smoke that surrounded them, she burst into the staffroom to find Helga and Godric holding a mildly irritated conversation.

Helga had five first years come to her, it turned out. Godric had six.

They were both justifiably irritated with Salazar, although pleased to see that for once she wasn't defending him.

Yet neither were physically shaking with anger. Neither of them were seething and almost unable to form a sentence.

Rowena Ravenclaw was, for the first of very few times in her life, speechless.

Why was she so much angrier with Salazar than them?

Feeling her stomach covertly, she knew why.

He had let her down. Badly. And she was so angry, she was quite unsure how she was going to explain her predicament to Helga and Godric in a few months.

They were both intelligent, after all, though not as intelligent as she. Although she hadn't proved her intelligence recently, she thought to herself.

She was filled with wrath, and it felt sinful. But that was mainly due to the fact that it was making her realise just exactly how much difficulty she had put herself and her stomach in.

Damn Salazar. He was the cause of all this. The sinful anger, and everything that proceeded it.


	5. Envy

**Envy**

Another sorting ceremony, and Helga watched with intermittent interest as the Sorting Hat assigned various students to different houses. The new system Salazar had imposed on the hat this year, forbidding the entrance of muggleborns, or indeed half-blood students, into Slytherin house, was perhaps for the best, she thought. After all, it did at least mean that they would face led prejudice from their house mates, not to mention from their Head of house.

In fact, it wasn't that that was really bothering her, even though she still thought it ridiculous.

She heard the shouts of the hat, thinking back to its opening song.

It had sung of Gryffindor's placed importance on Bravery and Daring, Ravenclaw's love of Intellect and Individuality, Slytherin's respect for Cunning and Ambition (and purity of blood, Helga had thought wryly) and Hufflepuff's admiration of, what exactly? Being Nice? Being Fair? Hardworking?

And it wasn't that that irritated her the most, it was the fact that, due to her fair and nice nature, Hufflepuff house was known as the house where students with no particular attributes were sent.

Half her house were true Hufflepuff's, and regardless of Salazar's instant dismissal of them as 'pathetic', she was proud to take on those who were Kind and Hardworking and Loyal.

She less liked being the head of the Leftover House.

So Helga sat there filled with Envy, as the Houses filled up, knowing that Rowena would never be given a stupid, or boring, student. Godric would never receive a coward. Salazar would never receive an ineffective student.

But she? She would receive plenty who were not true Hufflepuffs. And that meant that her House was the source of undeserved derision.

She envied her friends proud Houses.

But as she sat their jealously looking upon the Sorting, she glanced at Rowena.

The woman sat in her chair with calculated indifference in place, allowing herself a smile as each Ravenclaw was housed, but otherwise maintaining her mask of emotionless observance.

But Helga could see that Rowena was paler and thinner than last year, when she had seemed so full of life.

She had not seen her all through the summer holiday, she had claimed to be travelling for research purposes, yet Helga was not sure if she believed her.

And watching the way Salazar glanced across at Rowena, with what looked like concern, she thought of how he had adopted a child over the summer. From 'a dear friend', he had said. The child was being looked after by a wet nurse at his family home.

A child with dark hair, and pale skin.

A child rumoured to already be performing magic.

A child who resembled very much a woman she knew very well, who seemed now so bereaved. As if she had lost something very, very dear.

Suddenly, Helga didn't feel quite so envious of her friends.


	6. Greed

**Okay, this ran away with me a bit, sorry! **

**Greed**

'It's Greed, Salazar! Pure and simple!' bellowed Godric Gryffindor, and he followed these words by storming out of the staffroom, slamming the door as he went.

Salazar smirked, and remarked in his typically dry manner about the temper of Gryffindors.

Helga threw him an uncharacteristically disgusted look, and ran after the other man, calling his name softly as she did so.

He rolled his eyes at Rowena, on the other side of the room, who smiled weakly, looking terrified as she did so. He noticed she was wringing her hands.

He adored those hands, so pale and elegant. But the action was unusual, Rowena did not like to publically display emotions.

He mulled over the previous discussion, and his efforts to explain to his three compatriots why mud-bloods should NOT be allowed into their hallowed halls.

Why should they share their world with dirty blood?

Why should they let those idiotic, non-magical people pollute their world with their confusion and lack of understanding of wizarding customs?

And how did they know what their family was like? For all they knew, their father could have ordered the execution of a 'witch'.

He did not want people from such stock to receive the advantages of a wizarding life.

In fact, he wanted them to be eradicated completely, if possible.

That had been the basis of the construction of the chamber, after all. It was finished, now, complete with Basilisk.

But he had made the mistake of telling the others, in a fit of rage.

A fit that had only just ended, actually.

The others didn't understand. Even Rowena didn't understand. They thought him greedy, prejudiced, unfeeling, and even murderous.

He thought himself right.

He heard a slammed door from outside the halls, and a woman's terrified pleading. Godric had begun his search, despite Helga's current attempts to protect him and Rowena's earlier argument that even if he did find it, what was he going to do to kill a giant snake?

After all, he wasn't of his line. Unlike their son, so pale and yet so dark, he did not speak Parsletoungue.

He mused sadly that he should really allow Rowena to see their son, whom he knew she pined for. But he could not. Not just yet.

Looking at her now, he saw that she was still staring at him in fear and with pain in her eyes.

He loved those eyes.

She opened her mouth, and eventually managed to strangles out a simple

'Salazar, please…' before the back of her throat seemed to close and she began to bite back tears.

That scared him.

Rowena Ravenclaw never cried. Not with an audience, anyway.

He had only seen her cry once before, and felt the same stab of guilt upon realising that it was in fact his fault once more that she was in pain.

He moved swiftly across the room and tried to take her in his arms, but she pushed him away.

He settled upon holding her hands, gently stroking them as he stared at the beautiful face that now glistened by the dying candlelight.

Eventually, he lifted a hand to her face, and cupped her cheek.

She looked at him in sorrow, as he simply whispered.

'I'm so sorry'.

He placed a simple kiss to her lips and then rose to leave.

She grabbed his hands with a strangled cry but he gently prised himself free, walking steadfastly towards the door despite his longing to run back to her and take back all the pain he had caused.

But he could not let himself.

He could not stay.

He had to leave this place, raise his son.

His dynasty and pure-blood dream were more important than anything else.

It was not greed to him. For greed would involve him taking him with her, away from where she belonged and was loved.

And he would not do that to her.


End file.
